


a deal.

by DictionaryWrites



Series: DashingFrost Week 2018 (25th July - 1st June.) [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15045101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: For Dashingfrost Week, from the 25th June to the 1st of July.Just a cutesy first kiss fic.





	a deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [Dashingfrost Week here](https://fuckyeahdashingfrost.tumblr.com/post/174693891923/dashingfrost-week-2018)!
> 
> Written for Monday - First Times, with this being a first kiss.

Fandral is staring at him again. Loki tries to focus on his book, tries to focus on the text that is neatly settled in his lap, but the black-printed text seems to swim before his distracted vision. Fandral’s brown eyes are settled on him, and Loki can feel his skin prickle with heat, his lips parting. 

“Stop it,” Loki says to the other boy.

“Stop what?” Fandral asks, his tone full to the brim with innocence, and Loki grips tightly at the side of the book, glancing across the room. Thor is nowhere to be seen, having taken the opportunity to sneak from the library and take a break from his studies. Fandral, of course, always takes the opportunity to study alongside the princes in the palace library, when the option is afforded him - but it seems today, he is studying Loki instead of his books of poetry.

Loki glances up at the older boy, and he sees that Fandral has inched a little closer, but a foot between them. His pretty lips are parted, his lovely brown eyes shining beautifully in the light that seeps in through the window, his hair drawn back from his face... 

“You’re staring at me  _again_ ,” Loki says, and he stiffens himself slightly, raising his chin. “See that I don’t remove your eyes, and turn your gaze elsewhere. Aren’t you meant to be studying poetry?”

“What better way to study poetry than to appreciate the poetry of your features, Loki?” Fandral asks softly, and Loki swallows. “What better way than to appreciate - to admire - the marble planes of your cheeks, your nose, your chin, to revel in how lovely and smooth your skin is.What better way than to appreciate, as art, the cupid’s bow of your pink lips? What better way than to lose myself in the ocean expanse of those deep eyes? Poetry isn’t merely to be  _read_ , my friend: it is to be experienced.”

Loki’s mouth is completely dry. He stares at Fandral, taking in his words - undoubtedly, this is some sort of trick, some attempt at mischief on Fandral’s part, and he feels himself lean back slightly. “Shut  _up_ ,” Loki says, his tone brittle. “And turn your gaze away.”

“I will for a price,” Fandral says eagerly, and he is even closer now - close enough that Loki can smell the sweet tang of the cologne he’s started wearing just this year, cologne that makes Loki  _shiver_  whenever he tastes it on his tongue. It’s an Alfheim perfume, subtle and sweeter than the musky scents worn by AEsir, and it makes Loki feel like leaning right into Fandral’s space, breathing it in. 

Fandral knows, perhaps, of Loki’s natural perversions. Maybe that is why he teases in such ways.

“What price?”

“A kiss.” Loki stares at him.

“This is a trick.”

“There is no trick. I want for a kiss - I  _ache_  for one.”

“Then find some peasant girl and aim your lacking charms in her direction.”

“But you’re so beautiful,” Fandral says softly, and he leans in close enough to set his hand upon Loki’s drawn-up knee. That is bold of him, bold indeed, and Loki shivers at the sensation of those wonderfully-warm fingers against his leggings. “How could some peasant girl compare?”

Loki wants to. Even if this is a mischief, even if this is indeed a jape in order to  **embarrass**  him, it might be worth it, just to get closer to that wonderful cologne, just to feel the way Fandral’s plump lips give way beneath his own - he knows, he  _knows_ , that Fandral kisses all sorts of women, that he is free with his mouth, even though the two of them are the youngest of their friends...

“Alright,” Loki says breathlessly. Fandral’s eyes widen in apparent surprise, and he falters.

“Truly?”

“If you’ll stop looking at me,” Loki says. He sets his legs down, parting them and letting Fandral slip slowly onto the bench between Loki’s knees, and he stares down at Loki’s mouth as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. Loki takes his plunge. He leans in, pressing his lips to Fandral’s and feeling them plump and warm, feeling Fandral’s modest moustache and beard drag over his own bare skin, Fandral’s  _tongue_  against Loki’s own.

It’s glorious. It’s wonderful. He groans softly as he presses further into the kiss, dominating it clumsily and with uncertainty, and when he finally stops, drawing away, he still has his hand fisted in the front of Fandral’s blouse, and Fandral’s wonderful perfume is a thick cloud in his nostrils. 

“Oh,” Fandral murmurs. “I think I’ll have to stare at you all the more, now.”

“Just like you,” Loki replies. “To go back on a deal.” And yet despite himself, he leans in once more, catches Fandral’s lips under his own, kisses him bruisingly hard, and then he hears the creak in the doorway. He slides back to his place against the wall, his knees drawn up, his book in his lap, and the both of them look to Thor and Sif as they enter.

“Distracting Loki from his studies, Fandral?” Thor asks, amusedly.

“As ever, your highness,” Fandral says smoothly, and Loki heaves in a little gasp of breath, turning his attention back to his book. His lips are tingling, and he can feel Fandral’s cologne clinging to him.

If this is a mischief, then Loki is glad to embrace it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


End file.
